Learning to Share
by User7389
Summary: While staying in Beorn's home, the company is forced to share the hobbit. I own nothing but this story. No slash. (This is a loose, one-shot comprised piece with no strong plotline, but it's for tickling my funny bone. Just thought I'd share it with my other hobbit-lovers. This is not my best, most polished work, so watch out!)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! How are you?**

**I dunno, my dudes. I felt like publishing one of my older pieces again, but with heavy revising, mind you. With summer coming up, I will have plenty of time to publish various short stories, but here is a compilation of one-shot ideas I have. There will be updates when I have another decent idea to add, but this is a loose, unserious story. #indulgent #whatevers**

**-E-**

With every swing, wood shards jumped away like a splash of water, the sound of metal against wood ringing out into the surrounding meadow. The smell of cedar and pine. Beorn did this for the last hour, refilling his wood supply and replanting the trees he harvested. From doing this, his shoulder pulsed from swinging his ax, his wool jerkin covered in splinters. Although he chopped enough for him and his animals, he decided to chop some more. The trees could waste away if the wilderness continued to sour and dim, if the spider-beasts and wargs increased.

He swung again. Metal chipped the edge of the stump. Before he could wipe the sweat off his head and swing again, his horses approached him.

The white and ginger beauties neighed excitedly. They hopped on their feet and jerked their heads around, acting more like foals than mares. Their hooves kicked the wood shards yards away.

"Hm?" Beorn leaned on his ax. "What is it?" He paused and frowned at their report. "Dwarves, are there?"

This was the last thing that he could imagine, that he would like to imagine. But, before he could round up the horses and ease them, before he could instruct them to see to the other animals, or before he could rush off to keep the invaders away, an ancient voice rung through the air.

"Hello, my friend, skin-changer!" a man announced, stepping toward Beorn. "I am very grateful for your generosity! You may have noticed or you may have not, but I and my company have helped ourselves to-"

"Who are you and what do you want?" he asked gruffly, hands tightening on his ax.

The man forced a smile. "I am Gandalf the Grey, my friend, one of the few wizards in Middle-earth."

"Never heard of him." He frowned.

"Yes, well," Gandalf shifted his weight. "Well… have you heard of Radagast the Brown? He is a dear friend of mine and he occasionally comes around this part of the land."

He thought for a moment, petting the horses and organizing them in a line behind him, away from the foreigner. "Not a bad fellow. He understands animals well."

"Yes, he definitely does, that Radagast."

"Though, I have not seen him often. I believe it is because of the changing wilderness."

"Yes, well," the wizard held his staff in his other hand, using his other to gesture nervously. "To tell you the truth, my friend, we have lost our luggage and were hoping if-"

"We? The others are dwarves."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, most are. A very respectable group, if you ask me or Radagast. And we-"

"Most." Beorn took a step forward and made the wizard fumble with his staff. "Who are the others, then, if they are not dwarves?"

"Well…." With his shoulders ridged, the wizard began to look around his feet, frowning as much as Beorn when all he could find were wood shards and daisies. "Well, the only non-dwarf besides myself is Mr. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. He should be" -Gandalf chuckled unnaturally when he looked behind him- "my dear friend, you are quite funny!"

The creature behind the wizard made Beorn double-take: a small figure, about half the wizard's height, with light, honey curls and glowing cheeks. He noticed the creature's furry feet first - much like the fluff of a bunny's paw, to his humor - and then his clothes. They were faded and patchy, having a few holes and broken threads here and there. It was like he came from a nasty storm. But, the skin-changer's lost his rising anger when the creature could only stand awkwardly, looking down in embarrassment from hiding.

Beorn would have laughed when the wizard urged him to stand beside him instead of behind, but a question came first: "And what's this little fellow? Not a dwarf, is he?"

"No, not quite a dwarf, my friend. This is Mr. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. A hobbit, but you may know him as a halfling - or, for your case, a quarterling!" Gandalf tried to joke.

Curious, Beorn - with as much carefulness as he treated his chickens - moved closer and knelt down, which made the creature tense. But, now that he was closer, he saw the bare chin and cheeks, seeing only softness in the hobbit's being. The few wrinkles around his eyes were the only indicator of the hobbit's age: not a young beorning babe, but a grown adult of his own kind. This comparison almost made Beorn chuckle.

"Quite a creature, you are, little hobbit."

Before letting the hobbit stutter a response, Beorn gave into his sudden urge and reached for him. With his hands as big as barrel lids, grasping the hobbit was easy, as if he were a toy. But, the creature squeaked loudly as Beorn lifted him up, poking him firmly as he would one of his newborn cafflings, checking if he was healthy or needing attention - who knew if the hobbit was injured with the abuse his clothes went through. But, he began to think it was too much for the creature when his plush-like skin grew tense and his face contorted.

Soon, the wizard was alarmed. "Beorn! I do appreciate you being open-minded and of the like," the wizard said and licked his drying lips, "but Mr. Baggins is not a small animal and cannot be - No, please do not poke him like that; it makes him uneasy - he cannot be treated like such and I'd appreciate it if you'd be kind enough to give my hobbit back before-"

Before the skin-changer decided to sooth the hobbit, thinking he was only surprised and could be calmed, hearty hollers flooded the courtyard. Bearded figures in rough clothing sprinted toward them. Fire flooded their eyes.

"Oi, you put down our hobbit, ya giant!"

"If you so much as hurt him, you'll have to deal with us!"

"Don't think we'll go easy on ya!"

"Put him down right now!"

Beorn turned the hobbit away from the yells, curses, and gestures, disliking the company before Gandalf could introduce them or scold them. He did not like what he saw, not liking the way they aroused his horses to whine and buck. Were they the reason why this creature was torn up and ragged? The reason why this creature was easily frightened?

"You all!" he boomed and cradled the hobbit into the crook of his arm. "Tell me what you want and why you are here!"

"We want ya to set him down, half-wit!"

"Hurt him and you'll regret it!"

The moment the dwarves picked up rocks, lifting them above their fuming heads, yelling louder when Beorn searched for his ax, Gandalf raised his arms.

"Now, now! Let's not get so hasty! It's obvious we are all irked, but let's move their discussion to that of civility and respect." He paused and growled at the dwarves. "If we want things to go smoothly, let's not attack our host. He means well - yes, he does! - now be quiet or you all will ruin everything!"

Bilbo tried to lift his head, but Beorn tucked him back. "I will only comply if these dwarves stop scaring this hobbit and my horses."

"No!" a dwarf with a strange hat barked. "You're the reason he's scared! You set him down right now!"

After the wizard smacked a couple of heads, he looked up and faced Beorn. "Please, set him down. Ever since the mountain's goblins ambushed us, he has been shaken up rather unpleasantly. Yes, he must be terrified, I can imagine."

"Goblins?" he loosed his grip on his ax. "What have you all done to them?"

"We were simply traveling through the mountains and we were ambushed. It is a lengthy story, really."

"I'd listen to it if it doesn't take all day." He patted the hobbit's back, who shrunk and tried not to squeak anymore. "Well… does it?"

"Well, I wouldn't think so."

"Good. Tell me inside and I'll judge if it is genuine."

The dwarves eyed him maliciously as he walked off to his home's entrance, keeping his ax and the hobbit in either hand. All they could do was follow the giant and calm themselves, but they failed when they noticed Bilbo's beet-red, wincing face. All of them - including Gandalf, but not as obviously - had to refrain from rebelling and hope the hobbit could endure Beorn's ginger, but manhandled grip. For now, they simmered.

**-E-**

Gandalf spoke fast. He covered everything from the meeting in Bag End to arrive at Beorn's domain, emphasizing their encounter with the goblins and their near-impossible escape. It made for a good story, which even the dwarves were interested in the sound of their own tale. Thankfully, it did not take long for Beorn to grin at their account and imagine every scene. In fact, he liked it so much - whether he believed them or not - that he called for his animals to serve them bread and honey.

A pig stood on its hind legs and offered giant ale pints, which Gandalf partook gratefully.

"You are very generous, my friend," he said and finished his drink. "And you are even kinder for letting us stay for some time before we go back to traveling. We could not hope a more respectable host."

"True," Beorn wiped his mouth and offered his cup to the hobbit, who would not even attempt to hold its circumference. "Luckily, you came before any more goblins could come. I can imagine they'll be a problem for me if they knew of your whereabouts."

"And for that, we apologize."

"If you all truly are sorry," Beorn said suddenly to the whole lot, catching them before they could bite into their honied bread, "then you will all be easy to host for. I am not very fond of dwarves - greedy and harsh, they are - so I'd ask all of you to be sensible and not give me a reason to throw you all out. I'd hate for the goblins to get this hobbit." But, then again, he told himself, he did not have to give the hobbit back to the dangerous world. It would be evil to do such a harsh thing against this little creature. Besides, hobbits seemed easy to host for.

"Yes, yes, well," Gandalf crafted another lipservice of gratitude, yet no one in the barn-like house seemed to listen, not even the wizard to his own words. Their eyes were on the hobbit, sitting on Beorn's knee with a piece of uneaten bread. It was unspoken, but obvious that they all wanted him down and in their mist, wanted him back and safe. They did not understand why Bilbo did not demand to be on the ground again, but they blamed it on Beorn's intimidating stature, his intense, wild face.

Gandalf silenced himself, pondered, and said, "Beorn, would you mind to speak with me privately? There is still much to put in order, like when we'll be leaving and what we can do for you until then or-"

"I'd think not," he said with a shrug, bouncing his knee involuntarily and making the hobbit squeak again. "That all can be sorted tomorrow. It is just about late, is it not? That tale did not take all day, but close to it!" He stopped bouncing his knee and offered a piece of cheese to Bilbo.

"Oh-oh," he cleared his throat. "Thank you."

His hesitance with food shocked the company, but they said nothing and only glared at the skin-changer, whose small smile only aggravated them more. They plotted how to steal their burglar back, but before Dwalin could step up and charge Beorn, the skin-changer stood up and towered them all.

"You may all use the hay for bedding. There are blankets in the closet, but you can ask my animals if you can't find them." He stretched his shoulders and began to walk off. "Good night, you strange company!"

Half of the company jumped up and followed, about to demand their hobbit back as children would for a toy, but Beorn squatted down at a haystack. With a few blankets, he comprised a small bed. And, after tucking the hobbit in bed, who blinked and tried to figure out why Beorn did this, the skin-changer smiled.

"If the hobbit needs anything, let me know. I have plenty of food and blankets for those who ask." He rubbed the hobbit's curly hair before leaving for his own bed.

Just when Bilbo thought he could be alone and regain himself from today - a whirlwind of ups and downs and of high places - the dwarves hurried over with a bad mood written on their faces and piled about Bilbo. They made easy bedding on the hay and blankets they gathered, and soon went to sleep before Bilbo could ask, "Can you let go of me? I've been bothered enough already!"

**-E-**

**I would like to thank the hobbit community for giving me inspiration! Thanks for being creative!**

**Have a golly good day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! How are you?**

**Before I get into this piece, I have a small announcement. **

**New change: I decided I need to have shout-outs for you guys! Thank you so much for supporting and liking my stories! It directly tells me that people enjoy these ideas and that they would like to read more. So, if I have a continuous story with many chapters in it, please like and follow to have a brief shout-out! AND, if you add a comment, I'll add a comment about it in my author's note box for an extra special shout-out. (I definitely wouldn't mind constructive criticism on my writing and story-telling. No slamming please, but don't sugar coat it either!) (Keep in mind, although, that I can only keep track of people if they have an account on this platform. If I miss you in a shout-out box, please let me know! I will correct it quickly.)**

**Now, thanks to all who liked/followed this little story!**

**Mercy156**

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**You guys are awesome! I'm glad to see other people like cute hobbit one-shots.**

**Enjoy! (Even though this is a rough draft fic just to tickle your funny bone.)**

**-E-**

It became an abrupt habit after the eagles saved them, when the nights had been cold and the terrain was unbearably rocky. Bilbo, half-asleep and too exhausted to think, would migrate over to another's bedroll and snuggle up with the owner, clinging for warmth and security. And, much to Bofur's delight, it began with him; he had woken up one morning to a face-full of curls and a small nose pressing into his shoulder. It was endearing - "Hobbits are quite charmin', aren't they?" - and Bifur and Bombur did not mind bunking with another one bit. It became a given for them to set up their bedrolls close to the hobbit, then wake up to one of them cradling the creature. It made the night warmer and their travels lighter. And it was humorous to see Bilbo's face when he would wake up in some dwarf's personal space, withdraw, apologize, and climb back to his bedroll, only to have the same dwarf bring him back whether he liked it or not. Bofur did not know which he found funnier: the hobbit bashful in his arms or seeing the hobbit bashful in his brother's arms. Bilbo was a good sport about it, though. He did not snap or scorn them. He tolerated it well probably because he was too tired and cold to care.

Yet, recently, some of the others would nab the hobbit when Bofur least expected it. Apparently, from what he could draw from their jealous glances and murmurs, they thought the hobbit needed to be shared just like everything else in the company. He was the company's after all.

One time, Fili and Kili persuaded Bilbo to tell a folk tale about the Shire - the one about the poor hobbit lad and the golden pumpkin. Happy to oblige, the hobbit excused himself from the others and set his bedroll beside theirs to tell them. Not moments after the tale, he drifted off to sleep. Since then, the brothers bragged to the others how soft hobbits were, how comfortable they were, and how amazing their own necks felt. It was nice to not need a log for a pillow, they mentioned. Hobbit bellies were the finest type of cushion.

This made everyone on edge; if Bilbo was trapped between the Durin brothers, there was almost no hope of getting him back. You could not take a toy away from two determined princes so easily. But soon, Dwalin - an elder the princes had to obey - intervened and whisked Bilbo away, which relieved everyone in the company; it was obvious that the hobbit was uncomfortable when the Durin brothers would grab him and nuzzle him excessively - feeling much like the smothered family rabbit.

Bilbo was thankful for the recuses - however embarrassing or irking the situation was. Yet he still could not understand why the company cared so much about where he slept. He asked Bofur once, "Is it a dwarfish custom to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Er," Bilbo coughed. "Um, pile up with other dwarf families? We do something like that back home, but it seems more important for you all."

"Oh, tha'." He grinned. "Yes, somethin' like tha'. It's more to do with you, though."

"What do you mean?"  
"Well," Bofur threw an arm around Bilbo and another one around Bombur, who walked close by. "Let's just say you mean a lot to us, to be sentimental like tha'. And that you don't mind bein' a pillow for us. Tha's quite nice of ya. Though, it certainly puts you in high demand, doesn't it?"

Bilbo could only blush.

As their travels wore on, it became a small tear in the company. They would debate about who had the sorest neck or who felt the coldest and deserved to bunk with the hobbit. When this was fruitless, it evolved into a competition; who would win a warm hobbit for the night? To settle it, the dwarves would arm wrestle or draw sticks. And, if Bilbo ever noticed these events, they would truthfully say they were trying to resolve an argument. This would satisfy Bilbo, too tired to get into dwarf drama, so he would lie down in his own bedroll. Then, when he was asleep and senseless, the dwarf victor would come over, scoop him up, and pile him up with the dwarf's closest family members, happy and sound. Although it seemed fair in the winning dwarf's eyes, the others would temporarily sour until the next competition.

Before this cycle continued to tear their good-will toward one another, they reached Beorn's domain. With their traveling on hold, with a pause in their stasis, the contentment patched itself up as they turned toward the skin-changer in unified annoyance. Even from their first meeting, they could not stand him. Through the next couple of days, they decided that it was intolerable how Beorn would scoop up their hobbit; coo, tend, feed, rub, and baby him like one of his small animals; and nearly isolate Bilbo from the rest of company. It was unbearable. It was worse than when Gandalf would usher Bilbo away from them when they were being "too rough" or "irresponsible" with him. It made them feel like their burglar, friend, and pillow was the price for sheltering here.

To them, that price was too high.

**-E-**

One morning, Bofur noticed a chill creeping up the left side of his body, the awkward angled of his arms, and the hardwood floor staring up at him. Instantly, he knew the hobbit was absent again.

Somehow, he and his brothers had managed to nab the hobbit yesterday, guarding him away from the rest of the company, and interrogate him to see if the skin-changer was being too rough or rude to him. If so, they had no problem attacking him with sticks. But Bilbo had assured them that he was fine, if a smidge flustered about the whole ordeal, and that there was no need to bother their host. Beorn had only shown him around his barns, gardens, and meadows. Nothing sinister or strange. This was all they could get from him. Although they had not been satisfied by that answer, for that moment, they had dropped the topic. They had made sure that Bilbo was tucked away safely in the middle of them, and fell asleep.

Now, Bofur sat up with a frown. He was getting tired of this pillow-swiping.

Looking around, he only saw goose feathers, haystacks, and patches of dwarves scattered about the barn-like home. It put him out that he did not have the chance to wake Bilbo and his brothers up with a nose-flick, with a small poke, or - if he was feeling mischievous - a small tickle. It had always made his morning. He blamed Beorn for taking that away, for being inconsiderate and selfish.

"Where's Bilbo?" he asked his stirring brothers, who sat up, looked around, and matched his frown.

Bofur asked again louder, but the company ignored him. Although, it was not because they were sleeping. The glares on their faces - Fili and Kili's especially - were harsh enough to break any dream. Eyes wide awake and furrowed.

"Oi, where's Bilbo?" he repeated, growing concerned now.

"Was here," Dori frowned, "but that skin-changer just snatched him up just a bit ago before he could 'ave breakfast, that oaf. I bet our fella is just about starved now."

"If he's ev'n a lil' peckish, I swear I'll kick that giant in the shins," Nori growled.

On the giant table, breakfast was present. Bofur, as well as everyone else, quickly gobbled down bread, boiled eggs, milk, and whatever cheese they could find, then went out to look for him. Who knew where he was and who knew if he was in trouble. Even Thorin came out to search, although he was angrier that the skin-changer took Bilbo without his permission than eager to have him back. And, from what Bofur noticed, Gandalf stayed behind. He contented himself with his pipe, nibbling on the end, and only looked half-worried. Knowing Beorn the best, he must have thought Bilbo was in decent hands. Yet that did not smooth his wrinkled forehead or Bofur's confidence.

**-E-**

To the brothers' triumph, Fili and Kili found the burglar first.

In a secluded patch of the garden, he was kneeling down, smearing dirt around the base of some large plants, packing and equalizing the rich soil. The flower heads bowing and nodding with the breeze. A bit behind him, a giant brown bag was lying; crumbs seemed to be crawling out of it, scattering about the ground around the hobbit. He must have been eating honied bread again, the brothers thought with relief, glad that he was in better circumstances than they first thought.

"Oi, Mr. Boggins!" Kili raced up to him. "Where were you? The whole company was worried!"

The hobbit jumped and looked up at them. "Careful with the poppies!"

They backed up from the flower beds until he was satisfied. Then, reading their concerned looks, Bilbo went on about how Beorn wanted him to help tend some flowers. Their leaves were turning unhealthy and the skin-changer did all he could to treat them, but he could not figure it out.

"So," Bilbo explained, "he brought me here to see what I could do. And I think these Dahlias were just crowded by these weeds here… and they just weren't getting enough sunshine." He stood up, wiped the perspiration off his forehead, and brushed off his trousers. "By the way," he started, "why was the company so worried? I've only been gone for a while. It isn't even elevensies yet."

Fili half-frowned. "Who cares how long? That skin-changer just snatched you up whether you wanted to or not-"

"And we didn't know where you were going!" Kili exclaimed.

"-so why shouldn't we be worried? He can't just take a member of the company like that."

"Especially a member who makes the softest pillow!"

Bilbo blushed. "I'm not the company's pillow!"

"But you make such a nice one!"

"Kili!" Too flustered to argue, Bilbo moved onto a different topic. "Listen, Beorn might be a little too direct for my liking, but he means well! Really! It was nice of him letting me fix up his flowerbeds. I haven't been in a garden for such a long time."

"So, you don't mind him pickin' you up all willy-nilly?"

"Uh, no, I don't prefer it, but I can tolerate him just as well as I do you two. You two are no better, y'know."

The brothers exchanged looks. Their hobbit was too calm about this. Perhaps he was getting ill, still shaken up from their goblin ordeal, or that Beorn bribed him with extra sweet bread for being his personal pocket pet. But, whatever the case, Bilbo belonged to the company alone.

Before the skin-changer could come back and steal him again, the brothers persuaded him to come back to the barn - or, better yet, drag him back if he did not comply. But now, as the brothers thought about it on the way back, they realized that the threat against the company's burglar: if Beorn kept getting his way with their hobbit, Bilbo might start to like him back and take his side, moving farther and farther away from the company, creating a susceptible period where Bilbo might want to stay with the skin-changer. Although the hobbit swore he would finish the quest with them, the paranoia ate at their minds. They could not lose their hobbit. They had to keep a closer eye on him now.

**-E-**

Thanks for reading! If you guys want me to write something for this series, please let me know! Don't forget to like and follow for a shout-out in my next update!

Have a golly good day!


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